


Food Fight

by Locksnek



Series: UngNa dumpster fires [1]
Category: The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, First Time, Other, back on my bullshit but minus any plot, confused sex, let’s pretend it’s character development, like no attempt to even dignify this with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27806077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Locksnek/pseuds/Locksnek
Summary: The Skeksis have only just lately come into being.  SkekUng and SkekNa promptly discover fighting and fucking, because of course they do.(Now with a second chapter that was never supposed to happen.)
Relationships: skekNa/skekUng (Dark Crystal)
Series: UngNa dumpster fires [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823725
Comments: 9
Kudos: 9





	1. Roast

**Author's Note:**

> My first utter PWP. *about eight pieces of withered confetti fall from the ceiling* Also chronologically the first installment in my UngNa arc, because nothing says classy like starting with this.
> 
> Warning-ish? Consensual but it’s evident one of the characters would not have been above playing it out differently. Also this technically falls in the archive tag I suppose, but, violence toward a cute animal.

What do they eat now? SkekUng rages through the kitchens, which weren’t much used _before_ but are nonetheless expansive. UrSkek had insisted on being equipped to furnish feasts for guests, providing dense, crude foodstuffs of the sort that nourished most of Thra-kind. They’d temporarily retained Gelfling or Podling staff to cook when mortals gathered at the Castle for occasions, including the fateful incident that had resulted in the changing or annihilation of the UrSkek. Not that SkekUng, nor any of them, exactly remembers any of that now.

  
Nothing much edible had been found when several of the Skeksis chaotically turned out the kitchens late last night, mostly just plant-based rubbish, but they’d overlooked something. SkekUng finds an item never removed from a now-cold oven, a roast of some sort, its makers and would-be eaters fled. His tail twitches. Apparently they eat flesh now, which would make sense, given the teeth and claws and all. He takes off down the corridors on all fours, carrying the thing in his mouth, strings of pale meat flaking off it as he goes. He’s eager to sit down and dig in somewhere out of the way, where no one will be around to try and share his prize. It will also be nice to avoid the irritating admonishments from a few of the more priggish among them to try walking upright or to clothe his nakedness in a tablecloth.

  
He winds up outdoors, sort of. He doesn’t actually remember the gardens, but his feet must have brought him here instinctively. There is sky, and stars just becoming visible in the dusk, and green things shushing in a light breeze. He can’t see quite as well in the dark, but his senses of smell and hearing are acute. The flat stones under him still retain some of the day’s warmth. Tiny creatures, unseen, are chirping and scurrying.

  
SkekUng’s just settled down, his anger and confusion ebbing for the first time since he and the others appeared, tipping his chin up to swallow mouthfuls of meat whole, when a noise catches his attention. Something is making a high-pitched, pained cry. He chucks the remainder of his meal into a decorative shrub for safekeeping and paces toward the sound. There’s what’s-his-name, that particularly snarly one, closing his uneven teeth around a smallish kicking creature as SkekUng had done around the roast. SkekUng stops and watches, intrigued, as a fountain of blood springs out of what passes for the animal’s neck. The other Skeksis holds it down with his hands and rips hungrily with his toothed beak, coming away with ribbons of flesh and fat a few times before he emerges from the gore with a chunk of meat.   
  
  
SkekUng notices that his own beak’s fallen open a bit, drool spilling onto the cobblestone walkway. The extremely fresh meat is intuitively more appealing than the cold, cooked stuff he’d been working on. He prowls nearer, the tip of his tail lashing violently.  
  


What’s-his-name–-oh, right, SkekNa–-looks up, blood darkening the entire end of his beak, and his eyes narrow to slits. He hisses. “Go away.” His own tail begins switching, the feathers on his neck and along his spine standing up. 

  
Maybe it’s not the intended effect, but SkekNa’s bristling feathers are enticing, almost as much as the animal that’s dying and becoming food underneath his claws and fangs. SkekUng closes the distance between them in a fury of hunger, lunging with his teeth for the food while aiming a heavy blow with the talons of one hand. He connects with the edge of SkekNa’s jaw, almost with the side of his neck. 

  
“Lazy!” snarls SkekNa, righting himself from a near fall, bleeding. “Mine!”

  
Before SkekUng can sink his fangs into the meaty part of the opened fizzgig, SkekNa has lunged at him and bowled him over. SkekNa is possibly strong for his size (or at least generally irate enough to compensate), but SkekUng is significantly larger and stronger, an advantage he must have taken for granted. The resistance is both enraging and exhilarating. They snap and slash at each other, feathers flying and blood darkening the cobbles, until SkekUng’s managed to pin the other on his back.   
  


SkekNa’s eyes dart as he realizes he can’t extricate himself nor throw SkekUng off, and he looks panicked and confused as he falls still. Then he flails out with the one arm SkekUng hadn’t successfully restrained and drags the now-dead animal back to him. Acting as though he’s completely forgotten he was in the middle of a fight, the smaller Skeksis tears a chunk of fizzgig’s haunch off in his teeth, gulps the whole morsel down hurriedly, then moves to rip away another piece.

  
SkekUng hesitates in spite of himself, torn between admiration and outrage at the show of indifference. He’s lost interest in the food and wants SkekNa’s attention back on him, to finish their fight or–-he doesn’t know what, he rather wants to lick the blood off his face (are they cannibals maybe? Does he want to eat SkekNa?). He rallies and succeeds in laying hold of the hand gripping the food, pulling it down and holding it against the ground. Most of fizzgig goes with the hand, out of reach of SkekNa’s mouth, but the hindlimb he’d had between his teeth tears away and remains in his jaws. SkekNa snarls again, blood droplets and drool and small bits of flesh spraying SkekUng’s beak, and leans up to snap at his throat. SkekUng barely evades the attempt, his breath coming heavier for some reason unrelated to exertion. 

  
“Lazy shit!” SkekNa repeats, wild-eyed. “I’m hungry!” he shrieks, grabbing the hindlimb in his teeth again where it fell beside him. It’s too much for him to swallow whole, but he can’t rend it easily without the aid of his talons. He chews on it violently, swallowing the gore and juices, salivating and glowering.  
  
SkekUng stares. The emptiness in his gut, that had been there before he started eating the thing from the kitchens, seems to be moving downward, but it’s not the same sort of emptiness. It’s not painful, not exactly. “Moron! So am I!” he counters, his bellow eclipsing SkekNa’s objections in both volume and malice. He grabs the food in his own teeth, the tip of his beak butting up against the other’s, wrenching off a mouthful of his own and tilting his chin up to swallow.  
  


SkekNa’s head darts forward in that stupidly unguarded instant. SkekUng snarls as teeth rake his neck, and sinks his own teeth into SkekNa’s throat. SkekNa howls and gasps for breath before being inspired to kick upward with his clawed feet in a vicious pedaling motion. SkekUng is occupied with rearranging his own limbs and tail to quell this effort for a while, bleeding into the down on his belly from where he’s been kicked numerous times. SkekNa, by the time he’s subdued, somehow has one hand free again and the contested fizzgig limb back in his teeth. He’s made short work of it, and it’s mostly bone and gristle now.

  
SkekUng envisions absconding with the rest of fizzgig’s carcass and finding somewhere else to feed in peace, but control of the food has long since ceased to be his goal. He’s a bit fuzzy on what his goal is now, but it’s hard to argue with this form, which is new to him but also the only thing he knows or remembers. He isn’t sure exactly when he began pressing his hips down against SkekNa’s repeatedly, nor when the other Skeksis had started growling far back in his throat in an almost moaning pitch.

  
SkekUng hisses, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to do with this bastard. He licks at the corner of SkekNa’s mouth. SkekNa’s continuous growl gets louder, his entire form tensing even more than it already was, and he chews on the little longbone with pointed focus. SkekUng licks more insistently, catching flecks of food, blood, spit. He sticks the end of his tongue in a bit, poking and rasping at gums and teeth, and in the surge of eagerness that rips through him he almost rams his whole tongue into SkekNa’s mouth. He thinks better of it. He doesn’t care to lose his tongue so soon after coming into being, especially not now that he’s finding there are interesting things to be done with it. 

  
SkekNa is still ignoring him though, maybe out of distaste at the intrusion, maybe out of spite. Probably spite, not wanting to let on that any part of him is enjoying this, but his scent has changed and he’s writhing just a bit into SkekUng’s movements. He simply needs to be convinced to drop the charade and participate in whatever-this-is. 

  
“Let go of that, idiot. I won’t take it. Don’t want it now.”

  
“Don’t care what _you_ want,” SkekNa hisses, still gnawing away at the bone. He’s avoiding eye contact. “I told you, I’m hungry.”  
  


“I told you, so am I.”  
  


“So you steal my food? Lazy! Coward!”  
  


“I said I don’t want it anymore. You can even have some of mine. Later.”  
  


“What?!”  
  


“From the kitchen,” SkekUng says impatiently, but at least SkekNa’s stopped pretending to ignore him and is looking right at him again.  
  


“You _got_ food. From the kitchen. And you’re _still_ trying to steal mine. Useless! Useless lump!”  
  
  
Granted it’s a look of sheer contempt, but the type of look doesn’t really matter, does it? As long as he has SkekNa’s full attention. SkekUng grinds down harder, that pleasant anguish in the pit of him flaring a shade brighter. “If I can take it, it’s mine. You understand me?”   
  
  
SkekNa tries to writhe away, the toothmarked bone falling from his jaws. “Go rot!”

  
There’s another struggle, but it’s halfhearted on SkekNa’s part, punctuated by that thrusting movement they’re both making against each other now. Finally wearying of fighting the other Skeksis or his own instincts, SkekNa gives in aggressively, wrapping his limbs around SkekUng to pull him in close and sinking his claws into his ruff with an attempt at a smug growl. As if the idiot’s somehow won this fight by suddenly acting like it was his idea all along. SkekNa is very annoying, but he’s either the cause of this weird craving or some sort of solution to it, so SkekUng decides not to waste breath on explaining that he himself is clearly the one who won here.   
  


This isn’t even a fight anymore, in any case. SkekNa is twitching and panting, his face grimacing and drooling with that same utterly frustrating pleasure SkekUng is experiencing. The feeling is good, the best thing about existing so far if one’s to be honest, but also bewildering and maddening because it’s not enough in itself. It almost forcibly compels the whole body to move, but it seems to be concentrated between the legs, near the tail. There are a few things going on there, a weird appendage that’s grown out of nowhere and something else that feels like an empty space and some small node that’s on fire. This has to eventually stop, right? It’ll be very inconvenient if it’s permanent. SkekUng can focus on nothing else.  
  


SkekNa is much more amenable now though. SkekUng leans down and licks him again, cleans blood off his beak and face before making another attempt to lick him inside his mouth. SkekNa opens his mouth this time, both of their tongues roaming around in there, and makes the most satisfyingly undignified moaning noise. They cling together, too caught up in the same storm to care about the humiliation of witnessing each other in such a piteous and deranged frenzy. SkekUng starts to think he might die. Maybe they’ll both die here, barely past their first day of life, and they don’t even like each other. Maybe he wouldn’t really care if they did. 

  
That appendage that appeared between his legs twitches and leaks. Sometimes it rubs against its counterpart on SkekNa, which is especially good. SkekUng shifts back a few inches to rub more deliberately, but he overshoots; when he thrusts forward again, he brushes over soft, wet, enticingly warm flesh. He sighs or groans, and SkekNa yelps quietly, his fingers tightening among SkekUng’s neckfeathers. This must be it, he almost has it. SkekUng is wet farther back too, from that also-twitching space that feels like a channel issuing from him. So SkekNa must have a similar thing in that particularly warm patch. Why hadn’t this occurred to SkekUng earlier? He needs to actually put himself in SkekNa’s body. That sends him nearly blind with need for a moment, the idea of how insanely good such a deeply invasive act would feel. 

  
SkekNa’s read his intentions and is inching upward and away from the tentative prodding. SkekUng bristles and bears down on him harder, which only increases his resistance. He considers grabbing SkekNa’s throat again and biting down until shortness of breath or blood loss or fear for his life keeps him still. But SkekUng doesn’t want SkekNa rendered unresponsive, and that might take a while anyway.   
  
  
“Stop squirming. I’m not doing anything bad,” he suggests helpfully, but, naturally, the other takes it as a challenge or an insult.   
  
  
“How do you know? Good for you, maybe, bad for me. Selfish!”  
  
  
“How do _you_ know if you won’t try it?” SkekUng retorts, raising a hand in his impatience and indignation. He stops short as it dawns on him that he himself would hesitate to let someone do to him what he intends to do to SkekNa. _That_ is only reasonable though, since SkekUng’s very strong and not to be put in any sort of vulnerable position against his will. 

  
But, SkekNa clearly feels similarly, strong or not. If SkekUng doesn’t plan to pummel him into submission, and doesn’t have the right words to sway him, and has no intention of walking away from this unfinished business, the only other option is to put him more at ease by giving him some leverage. So, SkekUng lets his hand fall and does nothing when SkekNa lashes out and seizes his throat in his jaws. Even though it doesn’t sit well with him (but also seems to arouse him even more), he holds himself still, shaking with the effort. Slowly and cautiously, he resumes his movement. SkekNa makes that peculiar growl again, a soft unbroken guttural yowl, and hesitantly starts pushing back against him. SkekUng finds the opening he’s been blindly prodding for, but misses it the first couple times in his bemused eagerness. The Skeksis beneath him goes very still, quivering in anxiety or anticipation, digging his claws into SkekUng’s back but not voicing any objection with his teeth. 

  
SkekUng pauses long enough to reconsider his trajectory, shifts, and tries again. The gripping heat he begins to sink into is so startling that he stops and gasps, which is just as well since SkekNa is also gasping and closing his jaws tighter. Something far too much like a whine issues from SkekUng. He wants to slam himself all the way in, but that might get his throat ripped out. He wants to pull SkekNa off his throat, but that will definitely get him a fight he has no relish for right now. SkekUng wants SkekNa to want this, for whatever reason, so he hunkers over him twitching impatiently and panting like he’s just run ten miles.   
  
  
During his short time in existence, SkekUng’s already concluded that he’s neither gentle nor patient, and he considers that he’s being admirably restrained here. This feat pays off after they’ve both held themselves tensely at that impasse for several very long moments. SkekNa’s jaws relax a little, and he pushes his hips up experimentally to take SkekUng farther in. He makes a sighing, mewling sound that’s impossible to mistake for dissatisfaction. The sensation, along with the ego-rousing confirmation that SkekNa is in fact enjoying this, sends another searing wave through SkekUng’s innards. He pushes all the way in with a snarl. SkekNa yowls into his neckfeathers, a froth of drool and blood leaking from the corners of his mouth, and releases his grip to start licking SkekUng’s neck and beak almost frantically. That concession is more than SkekUng’s swolen pride and member can take. He abandons his restraint and draws back so that he can thrust in again, viciously. He finds himself repeating that, very fast, numerous times, his teeth now around SkekNa’s throat. If the other Skeksis was still looking to rebuff or attack him, this violent escalation would have been his cue, but SkekNa is pushing back against him and has all of his limbs wrapped around him again. They’re both emitting a colorful stream of surprising noises and curses.  
  


Again SkekUng wonders if they’ll die of this before it stops. This coupling had seemed like the solution to the intolerable, ravening pleasure, but so far it’s only making it worse–-better, whatever. This had certainly best not be permanent. The other hungry Skeksis will come eat them and they’ll be too exhausted and distracted to do anything about it, they’ll eat them alive like SkekNa was eating fizzgig.   
  


The recollection of SkekNa glaring up with his ruff bristling and his face covered in gore twists something in SkekUng just tight enough to snap. He must have wanted this, not the food, the moment he saw that. He forgets to breathe for a few beats, light and heat swarming him, staring down at the painfully enraptured face that is certainly not glaring at him anymore, then breathes in the form of ragged gasps and screams as his own body’s assault on his senses breaks over him. It scatters away slowly. He drops his head, panting, aware that he’s not only drooling on SkekNa but dripping sweat on him, that the night’s breeze has gotten chilly.

  
SkekNa gapes up at him. “The fuck was that?”

  
SkekUng grasps for words to explain it, but he’s not great with words, not under normal circumstances and not now when he feels like he’s been turned inside out. “I’m done,” he says unhelpfully.

  
“Um… _I’m_ not.” SkekNa grabs onto him again and makes a renewed attempt at writhing. SkekUng is deflating inside him, and the feeling is less than pleasant. He snarls and pulls out.

  
SkekNa backhands him and slithers out from under him, yelling up in his face. “Selfish! Lazy!”

  
“Fucking shut up, I just–” 

  
“I want one of those too, lout!”

  
“One of–?” SkekUng should really do something about this lack of respect, but to be honest he’s very tired now. 

  
“One of–whatever you just had! _Shit,_ you’re stupid.”

  
“I can’t right now.”

  
SkekNa’s gaze drops down between SkekUng’s legs for a second and he sneers. “Pathetic. Floppy, selfish, useless, stinking–”

  
SkekUng lunges in his affront, but falls short of his mark in his torpor. “I will rip your fool head off and stick your own beak in you. Get the fuck out.”  
  


SkekNa skitters back. Retrieving the rest of fizzgig, he mumbles obscenely to himself, then fixes SkekUng with a scathing look. “Shouldn’t have let you. You didn’t deserve it.”  
  
  
“Well, you did, didn’t you? And you liked it well enough.”

  
SkekNa can’t contest that, him still being visibly aroused, which he references with a faint plaintive note: “Wasn’t bad. But you just–-left me like this. How come you get a–-” He gestures meaninglessly, since they don’t have the word for it yet. “–-and I don’t?”  
  


“You’re so fucking dumb, SkekNa. Didn’t _mean_ for it to turn out like that. We didn’t know what we were doing. I’m tired,” SkekUng retorts, also somewhat plaintive. He really hadn’t wanted a fight now. Truth be told, he’s in a weird (and, yes, pathetic) mood and wouldn’t have minded falling asleep right there with his tail still twined around SkekNa’s, but that’s not the sort of thing one just pops off and says out loud.   
  


“Yes, must be exhausted from stealing from me, eh,” SkekNa grumbles, stalking off into the night with his tail lashing.

  
“But I didn’t–” SkekUng slams a hand on the stones in frustration. SkekNa was probably referring to something more abstract than the food.

  
He crouches where he is for a while, trying to pretend he can forget the unfortunate conclusion to the encounter and regain the sense of pleasant torpor that was settling onto him before SkekNa’d started whinging. No such luck. Now SkekUng is embarrassed and resentful, and he wants a chance to do better by SkekNa, and also he wants to tear SkekNa limb from limb. He curses under his breath and slinks back to the shrub where he’d hid the roast.  
  


The sharp odor of piss permeates the vicinity, and the roast is long gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I can see this remark coming– Yes, poor SkekNa. If it helps, I’m sure Ung will consider it a point of pride to satisfy partners (when he feels like it) after he figures out wtf he’s doing. 
> 
> Exciting technical note on my version of Skek-junk: They’ve got one large clit-like/glans-like thing between their bits that has a rather extensive and complex hood/foreskin so that it’s stimulated by being on either end of penetration. (Aaand I guess I now incidentally HC that they can piss with no problem during a raging boner, since SkekNa apparently didn’t have difficulty doing so after swiping the rest of SkekUng’s dinner.)


	2. Calf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SkekNa runs into SkekUng outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn’t supposed to have another chapter, but SkekNa naturally had his own input.
> 
> ***Chapter warnings***  
> This chapter is probably worse than the first one. This one is pretty heavy on the animal cruelty (I’m sorry, they be like this), and also crude language, and also reprehensibly sadistic concepts.
> 
> \----  
> Also uhh, happy Feast of Stephen I guess. >_<

A commotion in the grass, maybe a stone’s throw away, turns SkekNa’s attention from the little stream he was scanning for signs of anything edible. A landstrider is rearing up and plunging back down repeatedly. SkekNa stands on his hindlegs for a few moments to gain a better vantage (the Skeksis who keep saying they all need to learn to walk habitually on their twos do make some good points), but still can’t see what the animal is fighting.

  
SkekNa is one of those who goes out every day, so they can understand outside. About half of them stay in the Castle, to understand inside, the kitchens and the lab and the furniture and soforth. Outside are plants and animals that are good for eating, and apparently good for other things like fibers or hides. SkekNa isn’t terribly interested in the uses of plant fibers, although he’s one of the few who actually bothers to bring back any plants. Those can only be eaten if they’re prepared well and mixed in with better food items. It’s far more fun to bring back animals, because one gets to kill them first, and then back indoors everyone descends in a hungry flurry. Sometimes they move around in groups outside, other times they forage by themselves, but usually they keep within shouting distance of some of their fellows. SkekNa tries to stay in the vicinity of SkekLach, SkekSa, or SkekGra. SkekMal can’t be bothered to stay near anyone, thinking very highly of his superior running and climbing skills, and forever leaving them behind to do his own thing. SkekVar is annoying. SkekUng is to be avoided. SkekTek, SkekSil, and SkekLi occasionally go outside, but they observe things and take notes on them, a duty they seem to find fascinating although it looks terribly dull to SkekNa. 

  
What is the landstrider fighting? If it’s one of the others, that Skeksis must be immensely stupid. They’ve only existed for about two unum, and landstriders have already injured three of them in three separate incidents. Including SkekNa, who’d bruised a few ribs and got the end of his tail fractured. 

  
On the other hand, maybe two Skeksis can take on a single landstrider that’s wandered too far from its herd. It might look good if SkekNa helped, although he isn’t helpful by nature. Might get him some brownie points. He slinks through the grass, but halts when the first commotion is replaced by the thundering of a large animal running. He stands up again in time to see the landstrider moving rapidly away, its awkward-looking gait actually remarkably coordinated despite a gaping hole in its flank, back toward its herd. 

  
Definitely Skeksis jaws, a ragged and inelegant wound made by tearing rather than slicing. SkekNa’s tail twitches with interest. He sinks back onto his fours and creeps toward a new noise, a sort of garbled bleating, coming from the location where the fight had erupted. He moves very carefully and quietly. There are only a few Skeksis who could’ve done this, and he would rather approach unnoticed since one of them is on his shitlist. SkekUng is a self-centered, hairy lump. He’d all but strong-armed SkekNa into fucking (or at least, this is how SkekNa tells it to himself, since it’s better than remembering that he was actually turned on by how that drooling idiot was handling him), then sat down on his rump and whinged about being too tired to continue as soon as he got his jollies. SkekNa had stolen his dinner in retaliation. That was back when they’d just come into existence and food was hard to find. He’s sure SkekUng is still as sore about the theft as SkekNa is about the fact that he’d frustratedly humped the remainder of the food for half an hour before managing an orgasm that was rage-inducing in its mediocrity. Selfish lout had deprived him of a decent first experience.

  
The bleating sound is close now. SkekNa moves even more cautiously toward the vague shapes he can partially make out through the grass. When he’s close enough to see what’s going on, he stops short.

  
Damn. He might’ve known and he shouldn’t’ve have bothered checking; of course, it would be SkekUng. The landstrider he’d succeeded in driving away had apparently been a mother, because the thing that’s making the painful shrill noise is a calf, a quite young one. SkekUng must have done a thorough job convincing the mother that leaving her offspring would be in her best interests, which is impressive. Certain intelligent animals like landstriders get attached to their pitiful young, and wouldn’t leave them unless under great duress. SkekNa is miffed that it’s SkekUng who managed such a feat, and more miffed that the other’s sadistic dealings with the unfortunate calf make him want to stay there staring in fascination. What he _ought_ to do right now is back away quietly, before he’s noticed. SkekNa has deftly managed to keep clear of this one for weeks, never getting close enough to interact directly and pretending not to notice his glares.   
  


It’s not exactly that he’s afraid, of course. He’s just–concerned that one of them will be moved to attack the other, and no matter who initiates it SkekNa isn’t likely to win that fight. And then he’d be humiliated, possibly in front of other Skeksis.

  
But, there are no other Skeksis here. Now would be the time to confront SkekUng, unless he’s planning to avoid him forever. 

  
But what if SkekUng is still mad about SkekNa taking his dinner and leaving a puddle of piss in its place? Certainly he’s not afraid, but it would be wiser to leave. SkekNa starts inching back, his eyes still riveted on the other’s creatively abusive treatment of the landstrider calf (clearly he’s taking his time, he could’ve killed it easily already). A twig cracks under his foot.

  
_Shit_.  
  


SkekUng’s head bolts up, his feathers sticking out every which way in awkward gory clumps, that stupid strand of drool that’s hanging from his mouth half the time now intermingled with blood and fur. SkekNa wants to run, but that would be utterly humiliating. And anyway, part of him wants to go closer instead. He stands where he is. He must look confused or embarrassed to be caught out spying on SkekUng, because the latter is grinning at him, predatory, smug.  
  


SkekNa’s pulse is racing. For a moment he thinks he’ll be attacked. The twisting in his gut that suggests he would like it if that happened makes him want to bury his head in the dirt. But SkekUng only pulls something from the calf’s body cavity with one hand, yanking it out with enough force to move the whole pitiful squalling thing a few inches closer to him, and sets it down on the ground at arm’s length, his eyes never leaving SkekNa’s. 

  
SkekUng is– offering him food? Is he not angry anymore about the stolen roast, or is this a trap? There’s no point associating with this Skeksis, SkekNa already knows that. There are plenty of others, some of whom know how to screw without leaving the other person wanting. Plenty of them aren’t big enough to pose a threat to him. Yet he stalks over, growling quietly, to the small warm chunk of food on the ground. He lowers his head just long enough to snap it up, half expecting to be pounced. SkekUng doesn’t move and only watches him with an inquisitive expression as he swallows the offering.

An uncalled-for recollection visits SkekNa, of the time they’d fought over a fizzgig haunch while SkekUng had him pinned on his back, and everything that had happened after. He’d liked it, right up until SkekUng had shot his load and then shrugged SkekNa off like a flea. He shouldn’t like anything that ends in anyone shrugging him off. SkekNa growls again, at himself as much as at the other one. Has he no self-respect?

  
SkekUng raises his brows. “Wasn’t to your taste?”

  
He’s referring on the surface to proffered food, but they both know better. “No,” SkekNa snaps, bristling.

“Fair enough.” SkekUng resumes prodding callously, but also with precision, at the landstrider calf, whose struggles are very feeble now. For someone so imposing, he has oddly spindly hands, which he seems to have figured out how to use pretty dextrously. SkekNa involuntarily stares at his hands. “First time I opened up an animal, I had no idea what was inside it. Just rummaged around like an idiot. Now, I’ve had more time to learn. Makes it more interesting.” SkekUng pulls on something in the calf, evoking an anguished spasm and groan from it. 

The analogy isn’t lost on SkekNa. He can’t pretend his shaking now is from anger, or dread, or anything other than an attempt to restrain a vicious wave of arousal. He creeps around to crouch on the other side of the dying calf and stares at SkekUng over the mess. “This isn’t for food.” 

  
“No. Just for fun.” 

  
“Can I help?”

“Yeah.”

But, neither of them moves. The animal is obviously almost expired anyway, won’t be much sport now. SkekNa doesn’t care for talking about things like feelings, but he wants to make sure he’s not about to create more trouble for himself. “You’re not sore?”

SkekUng’s also lost interest in the calf and remains eyeing him intently from the other side of it. “Not anymore. I was, for weeks. Wanted to scatter parts of you all over that damned Castle.”

  
That shouldn’t make SkekNa’s tail twitch more fervently. He knows full well by now that he’s turned on by violence (committing it himself or watching others do it, he’s not picky), but the hypothetical idea of getting ripped apart should probably be a turn-off. Might just be the fact that he got under SkekUng’s skin so much, pissed him off so obsessively. He remembers SkekUng hunkered over the calf a few moments ago, SkekUng hunkered over him when they were still so new. Maybe there’s something similar about those two things. It’s maddening. 

SkekUng leans a bit closer, still allowing plenty of space between them, and adds, “Like I said, I’ve learned some things since then. I get why you did it.” He pauses before concluding reflectively, “Always kinda figured you went and fucked that roast.”

  
SkekNa glowers for a moment before saying dryly, “What the fuck is wrong with you? The roast was way too cold. I fucked the fizzgig carcass. Still warm.”

  
SkekUng bursts out laughing.

  
SkekNa tries for a reprimanding glare, but the giddy realization that he’s misgauged SkekUng is too strong. He pounces over the grisly mess and lands with his shoulder against the other’s chest, immediately leaning in to lick and nip roughly at his neck as though he’d been waiting all these weeks to do just this. SkekUng grabs him and pulls them both down into the grass until SkekNa is laying on top of him. The suns are warm on his back, the suns have gotten underneath his hide and every bit of him is too warm. It’s completely intolerable, delicious. He writhes against the other Skeksis, nibbling at him, grasping little handfuls of his weird feathers. SkekUng has dense, stringy, almost furry plumage. 

  
SkekNa’s developed a bit of a reputation for being vicious with sex. This has earned him looks of horror and betrayal, equally vicious retaliations, and masochistic interest. Maybe it’s ironic that the person who made him so vindictive as a partner has none of his wrath now; it’s all melted away in the heat, which is a slightly different heat than the sort that makes him want to do things _to_ others. He feels like he’s doing something _with_ SkekUng, that they’re doing something together. Not that they’re being gentle with each other, digging talons in and biting and occasionally snarling and snapping when one of them moves the wrong way or touches the wrong thing. But there’s no hurry to get to the point, for either to make some sort of statement of dominance. SkekUng wasn’t joking when he implied that he’d figured out a thing or two about touching; he touches probingly and thoroughly, as if SkekNa is the most interesting thing on Thra.   
  


SkekNa had pounced SkekUng with a vague determination that he’d damn well do the fucking this time (fair is fair), but he’s already squirming and yelping so much that when SkekUng cautiously pokes two fingers into him, held so that the sharp claw-tips are resting against each other and can’t scratch or jab, he forgets that idea entirely. He bears down on SkekUng’s hand, his tail thrashing violently, cursing and digging his claws into that damnable fluffy blood-reeking pelt.

  
SkekUng’s face, underneath SkekNa’s, looks intolerably smug. This was clearly what the bastard wanted all along, and he shouldn’t be given what he wants. But, if SkekNa wants the same thing, is he giving or taking? He settles the matter in his own mind by whacking SkekUng across the bottom of his jaw and snarling, “Did I ask for your damn fingers, idiot?”

  
SkekUng makes a halfhearted, unsuccessful lunge for his throat. “Ungrateful shit. I was _trying_ to be polite.” The fingers vacate themselves indignantly, both of SkekUng’s primary hands curling around SkekNa’s hips and shoving him down. SkekNa tries to beat him to the mark and voluntarily impale himself on SkekUng–which, even he has to admit, is a stupid contest since both have the same end in mind, and it’s not really clear which one of them “wins” anyway. Maybe they both lost, or both won, it mattered for all of two seconds but SkekNa’s indignation is forgotten again. He leans his chin back down onto the other’s chest, hissing and mewling with each thrust. He hasn’t preferred being penetrated since that first time, when he ended up stealing the roast from SkekUng, but this is very good. Why this drooly, self-satisfied lout is so good is beyond comprehension, and at the moment SkekNa also doesn’t give a shit “why.” He wonders whether the thought of any of the others seeing or hearing him like this is more horrifying or arousing, and he forgets that within moments too. He clings with all his limbs and pushes back until he comes harder than he ever has in his short existence. He screams like he’s being murdered and digs his claws in harder, which makes SkekUng grip him until it punctures and bruises him. SkekNa doesn’t care. He feels languid now, he feels like nothing could ever possibly harm him. SkekUng’s teeth and claws and still rougher thrusts don’t hurt, or only in a good way. SkekUng doesn’t take long to follow him, gripping SkekNa’s neck hard between his jaws, not letting go but slackening his grip as he pants and calms.

  
SkekNa lays without moving on top of SkekUng for what seems like a long time. Not that it’s a bad time. It’s decent enough, he’d move if it wasn’t. SkekUng doesn’t try to push him off. SkekNa notices after a while that they’re breathing in sync.

  
The sound of flies buzzing comes into his awareness. Of course, they must have found the calf a couple meters away, which has to’ve died a bit ago. Since SkekUng is full of gore and they’re both sweaty, a couple of the flies soon find them. SkekNa convulses awkwardly, trying to get one off his flank without actually removing his hands from SkekUng’s ruff. The fly relocates to his face.

  
“Fuck you!” SkekNa snarls suddenly into the quiet rhythm of their breathing, lifting a hand to swat at the fly. SkekUng, who almost seemed to be asleep, starts and grunts. “I’m not carrion yet, you fucking bastard.” 

  
SkekUng is confused. “You look a bit like carrion. We all do. Doesn’t matter.” He tightens his grip on SkekNa.

  
“No, lazy, I meant the flies. Damn! You didn’t notice? They’re all over the place.” 

  
“Eh?” One of the flies lands near the outer corner of SkekUng’s right eye, and he shakes his head to dislodge it, spraying slobber. 

  
“See? This is disgusting.” SkekNa squirms halfheartedly. “Let go of me. You do whatever you want, I’m not laying around and getting eaten alive by vermin.” 

  
SkekUng sighs, as if he would have liked to go on napping here all afternoon, and slowly looses his grasp. He untwines his tail from SkekNa’s with particular reluctance. When had their tails got tangled up? SkekNa hadn’t even noticed.

  
“Hey, there’s a stream right over there, we need to wash off.” SkekNa gestures with his beak. They abandon the calf to the flies and move through the tall grass single file, on all fours. SkekNa jumps when he feels the other Skeksis’ tongue flick lightly under his tail, and whirls around in a huff. “The fuck are you–” 

  
“You’re, uh–dripping,” SkekUng says diplomatically. Which is probably true. SkekNa grudgingly holds still to let SkekUng clean up his own juices, but that horrible eagerness flickers in him again when the other Skeksis’ tongue pokes into him. He finds himself crouched in the dirt with his tail quirked to the side, squirming. 

“Hurry up. We gotta find something to bring back to the Castle, they’ll be cross if we don’t. Can’t take that calf, obviously, since you let the flies–Aah!”

  
“ _I_ let the flies? Didn’t see you objecting.”   
  


“Can’t even understand what you’re saying, idiot, get your tongue out of–” 

“You can understand me just fine, moron.” SkekUng withdraws his tongue with a last vengeful jab. “All right, fine. Show me this stream. Then we’ll find something else for the Castle, and we’ll kill it together.” His voice becomes weirdly compelling, almost lilting, as he paces off in the apparent direction of the stream and leaves SkekNa still twitching on the ground. “There’s still plenty of time. Nice and slow. Watch the life leak out of it. Leave it a bit more alive this time, so it can watch us fuck as it dies, so the flies don’t get to it. Do you think an animal would know, that we like its dying so much? Do you think that would make it worse for it, SkekNa? How about…” 

  
“Fuck,” SkekNa mutters, his tail again lashing involuntarily. What has he gotten himself into?

  
Only one way to find out. He scampers after SkekUng. 


End file.
